Words Better Left Unspoken
by Zelinxia
Summary: Yama: Kurogane realizes he sees Fai as more than a comrade and thus finds out the painful way that their language barrier can be helpful as much as it's a hindrance. Words may be reassuring, but sometimes words are better left unspoken. Strong language.


**Warnings**: Shounen-ai; sex - one instance of a mildly descriptive rough and violent one; frustrated angst, but the ending will be pleasant

**Author's Note**: Written for a prompt at LJ CLAMPkink community, which asked for unrequited love and angst: where each of them are in love with the other but believe it's unrequited on their end. Note that this is completely from Kurogane's POV. Disconnect, by KittenKin, was also written based on that prompt - and it is from Fai's POV. With her permission I wrote a mirror fic, hence it's all from Kurogane's POV. I highly encourage you to read it so you can see each perspective and, clearly, what they couldn't understand from the other primary because of the language barrier. To read it, just type "s/7349572/1/Disconnect" in after "fanfiction(dot)net/".

Also, this is my first fanfic set in Yama. Now I think that whatever happened when they were stranded for a good chunk of time definitely set in stone their strong bond, and I plan to explore more of that.

* * *

><p>I was never good with words. Besides, people relied on words far too often than it was necessary.<p>

Like that damn idiot.

But ever since we were stranded in this world and were separated from the kid, the princess and the manjuu for at least two weeks, the mage and I had no means of ways to communicate. At first he tried to blabber on and on, and I seriously believed him for once that he was making an effort to see if I could understand him. But I didn't, and when I tried to say some words – more like deducting that the other three were further from us than the previous world– he pulled off that stupid grin of his again and shook his head, telling me that he couldn't understand a thing that I was saying at all. This time it was that he couldn't _literally _understand my words, my native Nihongo tongue, just as much as he never really understood the few words I actually tried to drill in that thick head of his about his recklessness and the ways he kept lies and how he should just stop it all.

When we encountered people set in encampments I (well, he too, I guess) found out that their language was really similar to the one I'm familiar speaking with. And so for the first time in the journey, much to my chagrin, I set myself in charge of speaking on behalf of us and making sure that our skin remained alive until the time we find the other three. It turned out that they were soldiers and that there were no other establishments of villages or such nearby so we had no choice but to join their missions for now. Clearly I was able to prove to them my excellence in the battlefield after demonstrating a few rounds with my new katana _Souhi,_ and so that instantly helped me earn the respect among the men. But as for my other companion, not so much. Everything about him threw them off, from his fair features to his relatively pacifist mannerisms that wanted to prove he was not violent nor exactly was eager to join the ranks and fight for the strong king of this land – Yama, it was called. He naturally decided to not speak as much and went mute, leaving him more susceptible to lewd looks from some of the other men or, even worse, random assaults from others because of his strangeness.

One day I came back after meeting with one of the generals and came upon the most hideous display of belligerence in front of me. Four soldiers were holding out knives and took turns lashing at him – and he perfectly maneuvered away from them enough so that he would not get hurt at all. But when one slit along his clothing and left a tear mark so close that it could have been his skin, I snapped. There were more tears and tears and before I knew it, I hurled myself in. My sword was nowhere nearby and I had no intention to kill whatsoever, but I used my fists that were already clenched so tightly to pulverize the shit out of the mage's assaulters. "No one dares attack my…comrade under my watch", I wanted to scream at them, but instead I let my fury be channeled through my fists. Words don't mean nothing as much as action anyways. The only thing I managed to get out was telling them to give the idiot some fucking respect or else expect more assaults from me. And so that did the trick, which I then left them off with blood of theirs dripping off of my hands.

I then turned to face him who was simply standing there, looking aghast in his torn clothing. Who knew what would have happened if I wasn't there in time to protect him, I thought with a grimace. I let him get hurt, and if I didn't step in he would have been done for, because gods know he didn't try to defend himself at all. There were two times he got in harm's way in that other world – well technically one. The first time he carelessly didn't fight back much like what had just happened. The second time was merely a false alarm. But still, I couldn't easily let go of the horrible thought I had then that he was eaten by the oni, even if they turned out to be fake. Because even though he never got harmed at all, he doesn't deserve to die. Not there, not here, not anywhere in the future. But he was still an idiot for handling his life so carelessly. Those attacks would be nothing compared to the war we would eventually enter.

He looked at me and started to wave his arms in protest and spewed words I could not understand at all. He even laughed, but rather unconvincingly. But I got the message – he said he was fine and not to worry about him. Or at least he pretended to be, as the way his clothing was severely torn and the glint in his eyes had said otherwise.

"Can't you see, idiot?" I snarled, ignoring his pretenses and dragged him off to the large common tent we resided in at the moment to where I insisted he changed. I also took the opportunity to inspect for any wounds, but miraculously there were none. He simply smirked at me with an all-knowing look, telling me I didn't have to worry at all. I scowled at him again. But regardless, I was the only one he could truly trust in this maddening encampment. When he was changing, it hit me that I was starting to care, _more_ than I ever intended to, for him.

There was no way I could ever express that in words.

And I absolutely refuse to even if he could literally understand me because he wouldn't get it anyways.

* * *

><p>This whole teaching a language through drawing crude pictures with ink and reiterating the words over and over proved to be quite a hassle, I realized, as I crumpled up another piece of parchment in agitation and tossed it aside next to the pile of brushes I had snapped in half out of sheer impatience. Only when it was important that the blonde knew how to fight and protect his skin in a bloody never-ending war was that manjuu not here to translate things for us. The mage obviously detected how frustrated I was in these daily lessons because soon enough he laughed again and hastily got up; bowing here and there in apology and indicated that he would just step out.<p>

"Get your fucking ass back here, you idiot!"

He threw his arms in mock protest, but nevertheless he came back and sat down close to me again, eyeing me with those black eyes we found out we both took on ever since we arrived in Yama. It was ironic how those were the only words he seemed to memorize in the first weeks of lessons, but then again I said it far too often. I seriously hoped he would understand other basic commands, otherwise I would be driven down to barking at him to retreat over back to me any time he was in peril's way on the battleground. But fortunately, he came to master learning and remembering simple phrases and commands over the next fifty days along the same pace he learned fighting after I took it upon myself to train him. There was no way any other bastard wanted to work with him; and either way I wouldn't have let any of them teach him, not even under my watch. The mage was a quick learner, and soon enough he proved himself worthy of advancing to the top of Yasha-ou's ranks along with me. Not that I was surprised in the least. It was well evident he was a skilled warrior– with magic and even without magic – long before we all met.

Whenever we were stationed atop the moon castle, I felt myself back in my natural element. No matter how many strategies generals and higher ranked officers would map out in careful labor many evenings before any battles, the goal of any war, any battle was always simply the same: break down the defenses of the enemies and secure a victory. Maneuver your way in and out, then cut in for the chase and kill. I had honed the ability to read the movements of each and every opponent I came across to find their most vulnerable weaknesses over the years I spent training back at home when I was (and still was) in service of Tomoyo-hime. But it was because of her that I was stuck with this unforgivable curse so I was not able to go in for the kill, even though I was deemed one of the strongest soldiers under Yasha-ou's army. Still, that didn't stop me from going all out. It gave me an excuse, the best outlet I had in a while to vent out my frustration at the overall situation that the manjuu left me and the mage stranded in; and my frustration at the idiot himself. Not because he was completely an irritation – though he still was – and not because he was incapable of fighting when he's really strong and capable.

It's because he was still hiding something behind those eyes of his every time I caught him looking at me. And I didn't like it one bit.

* * *

><p>When we were not fighting or training between battles in the evenings, nearly everybody would partake in the obscene festivities that the encampment put on every time they had a chance. Although I was satisfied to get my hands on the steady supplies of alcohol and leisurely drink away without getting tipsy and, thus, preventing myself from complete humiliation – I had no intention of getting along with any of the soldiers here. Therefore, I would often excuse myself from the company of the others and spent time in solitary with the mage in our own, personal tent. He had strong tolerance for liquor nearly as much as I do, and so we would often drop our guards and share the many bottles amongst ourselves. I already knew that he would get really apprehensive in battle. But in the battlefield, his deceitful acting skills were put to an actual pragmatic purpose where he would cunningly look like he was fierce in battle – yet as usual he knew that I knew he still did not like fighting as much as I did. And yet for once he wasn't as idiotic and kept carrying on until the moon reached its zenith and thus returned us all to the encampment. Drinking like this, at least, helped us ease our minds off.<p>

Ever since the manjuu was not around to translate, the two of us had increasingly relied on body languages to communicate, and so I would pick up on a lot more of the blonde's nuances and the ways he held himself even when he thought no one else was watching him. But for now as we sat drinking away, he talked when no one else except for me was around to hear him babble on in his native tongue. Normally I would do all I could to ignore the mage's idiotic nonsense, but since I couldn't understand what the hell he was rambling on passionately about and since I figured if at least talking would helped him deal with his own passive struggles, I simply let him be. While I couldn't make out his words, I found myself listening to his tones, the mood in his expressions as he kept speaking, and the way he carried himself leaning on the wall – and this was a completely new side of him I was finding myself witnessing. There was no doubt that he had dropped all pretenses, even though I would never be certain what truths he were telling me. I warranted that he was simply being honest about something else, but not necessarily the things he's always been hiding. It was an astounding sight to watch him speak and be animated like that, and for once I found myself enjoying listening to him, even finding that I was acting accordingly based on his mannerisms. If he narrowed his eyes and hissed at me, I growled back at him. If he flashed a grin, I smirked. It was then I wondered if this was the few times I would witness him like this – because for all I know, he would return to his methods of deceit anytime. I had a sudden desire for him to stay like this always.

But just then, his voice dropped dramatically and his eyes cast down as his words whittled down. I sharply looked at him, wondering what on earth he had said that made him so depressed. He caught my eyes at the same time. Then he laughed. A laugh I equally detested as much as his abysmal smiles and deceitful words like all the other times. Any notions that I would keep seeing him like this in his true self immediately backfired out of my head all because of that fucking laugh. I hated that. I wanted to brush away that laughter and tell him to not laugh, that I preferred it if he didn't laugh when he didn't need to just like with those unnecessary smiles. And words. I scowled as I stood up angrily and tossed the empty bottle aside, and did the only thing I could do.

I grabbed him.

"Stop it!" I yelled at him, shaking him by his collar unnervingly. "I thought you wouldn't be an ass anymore." My head was spinning with rage. "But I guess I was fucking wrong!"

He looked at me, so startled at my outburst. Well he should be, and even though I probably made no sense whatsoever to him, I kept finding myself wanting to scream at him to stop all of those facades because I wanted to like him so badly. But instead of yelling back at me as I narrowly hoped he would, the moron laughed again. My hand gripped his shirt along the neckline even tighter, anger and frustration flaring even more.

So much that I kissed him ferociously, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

I didn't know where the hell I was going, but I couldn't stop myself anymore. I wanted this. I _needed _this. I was furious, at him for laughing, at me for believing I could finally always see the real him. Refusing to let go, I pinned him hard to the ground and kept my mouth clamped down on his firmly, leaving him the slightest of room to still breathe in between the furious kisses. I could feel the heat emanating from our bodies pressed so firmly against each other.

When I get angry, I lash out. But this was a different battlefield and I intended not to surrender at all to him and his whims. I was aware that my rage could get the best of me, that far often my rage meant completely something else. But now the rage that was coursing through me and my sudden lust could only mean that I was falling for this damn idiot. And I had no idea when it happened or how it happened or even _why_ I felt like this. All I know for sure was that I simply _was_. I still wanted him to be always true to himself and to stop being so reckless about his life, along with everything else that got on my nerves. And now he was resisting me; for gods sake the only time he was trying to fight back was now. Yet I would not yield to him – I refused to. So I growled back and nipped at the base of his neck.

He stopped.

And I didn't stop there.

After slicking on oil in the appropriate areas and hastily working around him, I started pushing inside of him and forced my mouth on his again to quell him from yelling, lest other men would hear us – as well as to distract him from the momentary pain. As I kept going on, words kept coming into my head and even though they seemed pointless, insignificant to one who could not even understand me right now, I raised my mouth over to his ear and kept telling him over and over: "I hope you trust me"; "I'll never stop…caring…" ; "I never meant to hurt you"; and… "Fuck, you're growing on me!" And so I kept hounding those into his ear until I came at last, until I let go and we stood there in silence in the dark, breathing heavily.

Fuck, what was I thinking? If he refused to be open even when I couldn't understand him, there was no way he would… The anger was still there, but something triggered after all of this. He would recoil from me because I provoked him when I didn't mean to harm him. And yet I did, even though I wanted it, need it. I couldn't really blame him if he wanted to put a distance between us because of what I had done. _I'm sorry _was what I should have said to him even if he couldn't understand me.

But words failed me again, and so I just bit his shoulder.

* * *

><p>As weeks turned to months with no sign of the other three in sight, the mage and I increasingly sought companionship in each other. When we were not training, we were fighting on the castle battleground. When we were not fighting, we fucked. And over the days and evenings, rage turned into something I hoped to avoid – tenderness.<p>

I warranted as much that the primary reason he consented to have sex each and every night was because he sought comfort in the fact that we were the only trustworthy people to each other precisely because of the situation we were in for the last four, maybe five months. But still, it didn't mean he would still hide, even though it was getting harder for him. I thought I would never fall for his deceitful acting if I could help it, but I had. Because I still wanted to provide the things he desperately needed the most, even though he either wouldn't know it or flat out denied – and so I would continue pursuing after him, perhaps even dangerously pretending that this one-sided effort wasn't as futile. I still got angry at myself for being an idiot and falling for the doomed trap, and ironically I still let it out each and every time we fucked at night.

Every time he resisted, I didn't get as aggressive anymore. Instead, I was gentle. Instead of pinning him to the ground, I sprawled over him on either of our beds. Instead of pounding on ferocious kisses, I started it out slowly, softly planting my lips over his face and eventually his naked body. I would still murmur those same words over and over to _somehow_ assure him that I really didn't want to harm him at all. When he fought against my gentle attempts, I would brush it off. At the very least if words failed me, us, my tender affections would simply say that this care I was giving him was the same care in general that I hoped he would finally accept. I refused to surrender. Once I set my mind on a goal – whether in war or in bed – I never wanted to stop. And perhaps it was that mindset of mine that may prove to be a flaw, a weakness that could hurt me only in the end.

But even if it meant he would still let me cradle him when we sleep among other things, I kept going.

* * *

><p>We were in the midst of training once again and the loud noises of swords clanging against each other surrounded the field. I had just yelled at the damn idiot for being such a bastard when all of a sudden his face froze. Then he laughed and he sputtered out words that I immediately understood.<p>

The three of them had finally arrived somewhere. About time, I noted.

But with the manjuu being somewhere in the vicinity it meant that the mage and I would be able to communicate with each other perfectly again. Yet it unsettled me, for now it meant the mage had his words at his disposal again and thus would use that weapon to avoid me, and avoid doing what we had been doing for the last hundred nights or so. And so cruelly, as if I had become the mage himself, I curtailed eye contact and speaking with him for the rest of the day until I lay in my own bed by myself later that night, turning my back to him.

How ironic it was that when the manjuu provided easier modes of communication for us, we stopped speaking.

* * *

><p>We were back to the same, familiar routine with the familiar dynamics once the five of us met up again and the manjuu finally whisked us off to the same world in the same place and in the same time. It was back to finding the princess' feathers again and the idiot had went back to his usual absurd, cheerful persona. Only one thing would never be the same again.<p>

But I refused to dwell in that one thing that I lost and so I made sure to busy myself in anything and everything to do in preparation for that race. At the very least, the prospect of entering a risqué competition met my tastes and needs just as much as battling in Yama had offered. While the kid and the princess as well as the manjuu were off shopping for more parts and groceries, I was stuck in the garage in our unit tweaking bits on each of our devices we planned to enter the race in. It gave me something to focus my mind on, I duly acknowledged, as I tightened up one of the bolt in the hood of the princess' machine. I relished in being covered in grease and sweat, because I hated wasting time dawdling and leaving my mind to wander off in dangerous territories. After that was done, I decided to make a quick visit to the kitchen and get a drink of water before resuming back to work. Still holding the wrench in my hand, I headed up the stairs and into the hallway to reach our sparse kitchen.

But as soon as I reached the doorway I heard some fumbling. Stepping in, I saw the mage bent on his knees, shaking and, oh shit, _crying._ His hands were holding over a piece of paper and as soon as I walked in he snapped his head and saw me. For the first time ever since I chose to end the charades in Yama, we were looking at each other as intense like during all of those feverish one hundred nights or so. He was still sobbing, shocked that I had entered in his state of complete vulnerability. Before I could even do or say something, he started to speak.

"I d_o_ trust you," he cried out. What on earth was he talking about? Trust…

"_I hope you trust me." "Listen, about what happened…Don't take it the wrong way, idiot."_

I sucked in a large breath, realizing what he was talking about. On the last few days spent in Yama, I had finally ended the silent spell and simply told him that what I had been doing to him all those months should be nothing to be alarmed about. It wasn't the total truth, but it wasn't a lie either – it was the only way I could tie up any confusion he may have had. So he did believe in me then. But if so, why the hell was he crying then?

He tightened his mouth and stood up, fists shaking in anger while still holding onto his piece of paper. I was too stunned to talk, to even snap back at him demanding to know what on earth was going on. The mage started to yell at me angrily while choking on his sobbing. Something about how dare I was an ass to him all those times in the previous world and how he had been watching me yearningly all those times. I stared at the symbols on the paper in his hands and heard more words, and finally made the connection that he had just tried to comprehend all of those words of assurance I kept hammering in his head those nights.

"I _do_ love you."

Wait, _what_?

He stood there, bawling his eyes out and shrinking again, probably thinking I would get mad at him or just snap at him as usual for being some poor sap crying pathetically. _Idiot._

I grasped at those words and chucked the wrench out of my hand. Nothing was holding me back now as I loomed over his body, cupping his face the same moment he leaned forward and kissed him.

Those words were enough for me.

He grasped his hands over my hair as we pressed our chests even closer, each of us kissing hungrily into the other. Without wasting time I had started pushing him backward to the countertop and withdrew from his face, lifting him onto the counter effortlessly. He was still crying and hiccupping and then all of a sudden he made a face. Using his hand he pulled out a fork from underneath his ass and frowned at me.

"You're such a pain in the _ass_, Kuro-rough," he said, waving the fork in front of my face before falling into another laughing spell. All I could think was how much of a weirdo he was.

But what the hell was I thinking, believing we'd just do it in the tiny kitchen? Without saying anything back, I lifted the mage off the counter and whisked him off to my bedroom, where we're supposed to be. I dropped him rather unceremoniously on top of my bed and he finally stopped wiping his eyes and looked around. He then looked back at me in awe. At the moment I felt like I could grin like an idiot…but even I stopped myself from doing that. I quickly wiped off any grease on my pants then hover it over his tearstains, proceeding to wipe them off with care. For a moment he looked like he was going to cry again and I swore I would not be able to tolerate any more mushy cry fests.

But instead, he broke into a smile, one that was pure and genuine. So naturally I smiled back like an idiot that I was supposed to prevent myself from doing in the first place, but, oh well. Not wanting to waste any opportunity, I leaned closer to his face and stared at him, growling, demanding that he shouldn't bite back like all those other times. Any words he tried to say back to me were considerably lost because I went back to kissing him hungrily, yet gently, knowing for sure that he would like that, while playing with his hair and finding them alluringly soft. He decided to bite on my lower lip and, _oh gods_, licked it. After growling back in approval and slowly lowering him onto the blanket, he laughed again. But this laugh was genuinely different and I couldn't help but stare at him again. But it was pleasant and I actually bothered to let him know that. He must have been surprised because he was looking at me all funny before he pulled me back in and I couldn't be gladder.

We fumbled and soon enough we were tangled in each other's body, flushing and openly yearning for each other now that everything was pronounced clear. I couldn't help but hover close between his ears and lips as I went back to the old habit of murmuring those words to which he happily responded back to. But in the end, he actually was the one who told me to shut up as our bodies got even closer.

Words weren't needed at all anymore.


End file.
